


Fall in Love with Falling

by imatrisarahtops



Series: Tumblr Prompts [13]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Balcony Scene, Because of course I would, Coffee Shops, Discussion of Sexual/Romantic Orientations, Episode: s01 La Marionnettiste | The Puppeteer, Episode: s01 Le Dessinateur | The Evillustrator, Episode: s02 Reverser, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Genderfluid Character, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Marichat, Mutual Pining, Nail Polish, Pastries, Sleepovers, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 14:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17490116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imatrisarahtops/pseuds/imatrisarahtops
Summary: “Believe me,” Marinette said firmly, looking at him with a smile.  “Nathaniel’s got just as big of a crush on you.  You two really are the only ones that don’t see it, huh?”“Marinette,” he groaned, elbows on his knees and hiding his face behind his palms.“I mean it!” she said in response.  When Marc looked dubiously at her, peeking between his fingers, she sighed, picking up a bottle of nail polish and holding out her other hand so that Marc could place his on her palm.  “All right, then let me prove it to you.”Marinette invites Marc over for a sleepover.  Marinette wants to convince him that his crush on Nathaniel isn't so one-sided, while Marc wonders what Nathaniel was like when he was akumatized—and what he was like, for that matter.Part One prompt: “Even though I know you’re lying, I still almost believe you.”





	Fall in Love with Falling

**Author's Note:**

> I’m here with part one of a three-part dialogue prompt done for my sister. My sister is great, and has been helping me get through a lot the past couple weeks, probably without even realizing it. I still have other prompts to work on, but this one has been calling to me, mostly because of an allusion to _Puppeteer_ and I’ve been rewatching old episodes with my friends lately, so… yeah.
> 
> With the prompts, she asked for Marinette and Marc being bros, with MarcNath and a little bit of MariChat/Adrinette and Lukanette. I intended this part to be about 1000 words. JOKE’S ON ME, GUYS. IT’S 3000.
> 
> Title is from "Air Catcher" by Twenty One Pilots because I'm currently obsessing over it.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _"And I just don't say what you want to hear,_
> 
> _So I'll write my fears and I don't believe_
> 
> _In talking just to breathe and falling selfishly."_
> 
> \- "Air Catcher" by Twenty One Pilots

Marc hadn’t been invited to Marinette’s for a sleepover before.  As a matter of fact, it had been a long time since he’d been invited to a sleepover at all—probably since école primaire—definitely none since he transferred to Collège Françoise Dupont.

But, well, Marinette was one of his first friends he made after switching schools, so it made sense that she would be the first one to invite him over for the night.

“It’ll be so much fun!” she told him eagerly.

“I don’t know…” he said, a small hint of uncertainty in his voice as he looked down at his journal, slowly closing it.

“We can play video games and watch movies, and paint each other’s nails, and  _maybe_ , if you’re willing, we can share some works in progress with each other!  There’s a couple designs I’ve been working on that I really think you’d like,” she continued.  “And it’ll be all the macarons and éclairs you can eat, too.  Maman and papa will want to feed you the second you walk through the door.”

Marc chuckled a little at this, sliding his notebook into his backpack.  “All right,” he said, offering her a smile.

“Great!” she responded.  “Then you can grab your stuff after school and be over in time for dinner.  Maman was planning on making beef bourguignon since it’s been getting so cold.“

“Sounds good,” Marc said with a nod, gripping the straps of his bag.

It ended up raining that night, adding to the chill in the air, but Marc and Marinette were warmly tucked away in Marinette’s bedroom, full of beef bourguignon with potatoes and toasted bread—not to mention mille-feuille made by her father.  They’d changed into their pajamas and ended up sipping hot chocolate while listening to Jagged Stone, sitting on the floor while Marc painted the girl’s fingernails.  Her mother had insisted on them taking a plate of palmiers as well, just in case they got hungry, and it left her room smelling sweet from the heart-shaped bread.  They talked and laughed, passing the time by discussing things that had happened at school, especially the art room they now met in so frequently.

“What do you think?” Marc asked, releasing her hand, pulling back a little.

She smiled down at her hands, spreading her fingers out wide and examining the sleek black polish, watching as it shimmered a little silvery in the light when it caught just right.  “I think Luka will like them,” she said with a giggle.

Marc smiled in return, recapping the nail polish, screwing it shut, and setting the bottle aside.  “And Adrien?” he asked teasingly.

She blushed, glancing away.  “Adrien probably wouldn’t notice,” she admitted quietly.

Marc frowned at this.  He wanted to say something to assure the girl, but he knew that that was always Alya’s approach, and he honestly wondered if the words would just fall empty if he said them.

“I know the feeling,” he said instead, offering her a wry smile.

“You?” she responded, forcing the smile back on her lips as she looked at him again with a quirked brow.  “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one Nath notices, anymore.”

Marc felt his cheeks heat up, shoulders tensing and eyes widening.  “W-what?” he stammered.  “I—I don’t know what—Nath isn’t—I don’t—”

“ _Relax_ ,” Marinette said soothingly, reaching out and placing a hand on his.  “I’m just teasing,” she assured him.  “It’s okay.”

Marc swallowed thickly, still grimacing at her.  “Is it that obvious?”

Marinette blinked at him, seemingly taken aback by the question.  Then, she bit her lip, trying to hold back her giggles.  “Now I understand what Alya means when she tells me I’m not as subtle as I think…”

Marc groaned, hiding his face in his hands.  “Oh god, everyone knows, don’t they?” he bemoaned.

“I’m trying not to take offense after the comparison,” Marinette said, poking him in the side, though her words were still amused and not angry; Marc squawked and leaned back, swatting her hand away.  “You know, I’m pretty sure Rose thinks you two  _are_  dating.”

“We’re not!” he said quickly.  “Nathaniel—he—he doesn’t—”  He swallowed, trying to gather his words.  “Nath doesn’t like me like that.”

Again, Marinette gave him a glance as though she couldn’t believe the statement.  “Has he said that?” she asked, voicing her disbelief.

“Well, no, but—”

“Believe me,” Marinette said firmly, looking at him with a smile.  “Nathaniel’s got just as big of a crush on you.  You two really are the only ones that don’t see it, huh?”

“ _Marinette_ ,” he groaned, elbows on his knees and hiding his face behind his palms.

“I mean it!” she said in response.  When Marc looked dubiously at her, peeking between his fingers, she sighed, picking up a bottle of nail polish and holding out her other hand so that Marc could place his on her palm.  “All right, then let me prove it to you.”

“Please, no more schemes,” Marc said as Marinette began painting his nails.  “I love you Marinette, but…”

“I love you too, so I’m going to ignore the implications there,” she said with a half-grin.  “But no, I won’t meddle.  I’ve learned my lesson.  I’m just going to convince you I’m right.”

“I’m not sure that sounds better,” Marc told her.

“He draws for you, doesn’t he?” she asked, again ignoring him.

“Of course he does,” Marc responded.  “We work on our comic together.”

“Not what I mean,” Marinette said, leaning back a little to look at the nails she’d painted, then picking up another bottle of polish in a different color.  “I mean he draws you little doodles or cartoons, cute little things to make you smile.”

Marc couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up on his cheeks.  “Yes,” he admitted.  “But—but that’s just him.  He’s always drawing things.”

“Does he draw things like that for Alix?” she asked flatly.

Marc frowned a little—as far as he knew, no, Alix didn’t have a collection of little sketches like he did, drawn on scraps of paper or post-it notes or index cards—anything that was on hand.  As Marinette said, they were just small drawings that made him smile, brightening his day, and he kept all of them, displayed on the board above his desk at home.

“I guess not,” he allowed.

“He gets you coffee and pain au chocolat every Monday morning, doesn’t he?” she asked.  “When you two meet up to discuss what you guys came up with over the weekend?”

“He said it’s on his way,” Marc objected.

Marinette laughed at this.  “He stops by our bakery for the pain au chocolat,” she told him.  “It’s  _not_ on his way.”

“It… isn’t?” Marc questioned.

Marinette shook her head.  “Though, I guess I can’t speak for the café he goes to for the coffee.  Still, he stops at two different spots for you, because he knows you like our bakery best.”  She put the bottle of nail polish down, picking up the first one.  “Other hand.”  
  
Marc swallowed, giving her his other hand.  “Still…”

“He got you those nice pens,” Marinette pointed out, spreading the polish on the nails of his other hand.

“He said they’re his favorite pens for drawing and I might like to write with them,” Marc said, blushing.

“And that mug,” she added.  Again she switched colors of nail polish, shaking the bottle a little before uncapping it.

“That was after I accidentally drank paint water,” Marc muttered.

“ _And_  he designed it to look like your character,” Marinette pressed on.  “Not to mention he’s always going out of his way to make sure you’re included in every conversation, always asking for your opinion on things.  He knows your favorite snacks, your favorite drink, favorite color, favorite song…”

“He’s just being a good friend!” Marc objected, flustered.  Marinette raised her eyebrows at him, and he looked away, the heat on his cheeks almost unbearable.  “You know most of those things, too, Marinette.  And you like making me feel included too.  You’re the one who first brought me to the art room.”

“Both hands,” Marinette cut in with the request, and Marc obliged, still not meeting her eyes.

“Besides…”  He swallowed.  “He’s pretty straight.”

Marinette tilted her head a little.  “Why do you say that?”

“Because his last two crushes have been Ladybug and you,” Marc said flatly.

“Marc, don’t pretend to be narrow-minded,” Marinette said, not unkindly.  “He could very easily be bi, or pan, or demi… Just because he’s liked two girls doesn’t mean anything.  You’re the one who usually reminds me not to label or assume, and the same goes here.”  She pulled her hand away, screwing the top back onto the bottle of nail polish.  “There!”  Marinette grinned.  “I based it off of Mightillustrator’s design.”

Marc glanced down his hands, and sure enough, he recognized the colors.  She’d alternated his fingers with white and a deep purple, a dot each of yellow, cyan, and magenta on both of his thumbnails.  “Do you, uh… do you think he’ll like them?” he asked cautiously.

She couldn’t repress the smile.  “Do  _you_ like them?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.

She shrugged, closing up the kit with nail polish and getting to her feet.  “Then that’s all that matters!” she told him.  She then walked over to set the pink case on her vanity.  “All right,” she said then, turning back to him, clapping her hands together.  “What do you say we get comfy and share some of the stuff we’ve been working on?  I  _really_ want to show you these designs.”

“All right, sure,” he agreed, moving over to his bag to grab his journal.

Marinette picked up the two now-empty mugs.  “More cocoa?” she asked.

“Sure, if you don’t mind,” Marc said.

She smiled at him in response.  “Not a problem.  Grab the palmiers and my sketchbook over on my desk,” she said, nodding to the spot where her pink polka dotted book sat.  “You can head up on my bed,” she said, then nodding over to the stairs.  “I’ll be back in just a couple minutes.”

Marc nodded.  As the girl disappeared down her trapdoor, he got to his feet.  He slipped his journal and her sketchbook under his arm, then picked up the plate of sweet bread.  He then made his way up to her loft bed, setting the notebooks and the plate to the side as he pulled his legs up beneath him, glancing around.

He smiled as he looked at the collection of photographs pinned to the board on one wall.  He wasn’t surprised at the number of pictures of Adrien, but he was pleasantly surprised when he noticed that he even appeared in a couple of photos—one, a selfie that Marinette had taken with him, the other a picture of many of them at the picnic in the park on Heroes’ Day.  He blushed when he noticed how close in proximity he and Nathaniel were in the photograph.

The shelf above her bed caught his attention next, eyes falling on the moon and star lantern that just seemed  _so Marinette_ , then traveling over the collection of books she had there.  He shifted closer to the shelf, noticing that she had all of the issues of  _Ladybug_ that he and Nathaniel had made on display amidst her other books.

On top of the shelf, he noticed a collection of dolls, which looked as though Marinette herself had made them.  Immediately he recognized Ladybug and Chat Noir.  Beside Ladybug, he did notice one that almost looked like Alya, though he didn’t recognize the outfit.  One that was on the other side, nestled between Chat Noir and a blue and black robotic-looking plush, was another one he recognized: Mightillustrator.

But no, he quickly realized as he took the doll between his hands, glancing it over, this must have been  _Evillustrator_.  So then the other one was likely when Alya had been akumatized, as well.  There were a couple of other plushes lined up, but none of them were the akumatized victims he recognized.  Instead, he looked back down at the doll in his hands.

“I made those ages ago.”  Marinette’s sudden voice made him jump a little, and he whipped around.  “Sorry,” she said, grimacing.  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her as she took a seat on her bed, setting the two mugs in her hands on the floor.

“I started out making dolls of the people who got akumatized, back when it first started to happen,” she explained.  “But after a while…”

“There were too many?” Marc offered, and again Marinette grimaced at the thought.

“Yeah,” she agreed.  “I found them while cleaning the other day, and I figured I’d put them out.  It seemed silly to have them just sitting in a box.”

Marc nodded, again glancing down at the doll he was holding.  It made something in his chest ache a little, and he bit his lip.  “What was he like?” he asked quietly.  “As Evillustrator.”

Marinette sighed, scooting closer to her friend, bumping shoulders with him.  “Very… confident.  And sweet?” she offered.  He glanced up.  “To me, anyway.  He used his tablet to create a date for us.  But… I had set it up for Chat Noir to crash it, so after that he wasn’t so kind.  And he did draw a giant shoe to stomp on Chloe, so I guess there’s that.  Though, well, she was the one who upset him in the first place.”

Again Marc nodded.  “And…”  He swallowed.  “And me?” he asked, raising his gaze so their eyes met.  “What was I like?”

Marinette blinked, frowning a little.  “I, uhm… I didn’t see too much,” she said carefully, evasively.  “I don’t think you were so bad.”

"Even though I know you’re lying, I still almost believe you,” Marc said, shaking his head as he set the doll aside.  “It’s fuzzy—I don’t remember most of it.  But I know you were there when it first happened.  And I know I was pretty terrible.”

“Marc…”

“Please, just tell me?” he asked, pleadingly.

She sighed.  “You… you tried to make everyone hate me,” she said quietly, as though that would soften the blow.  “You said I was a liar and said I was the one who caused it.”  Marc flinched a little at the words, so she leaned forward, gently covering his hand with hers.  “But Marc, that wasn’t  _you_.  That was because of Papillon.”

“I’m sorry Marinette,” he told her.

“And you know that I’m sorry, too,” she said.  “You understand that I was trying to help, I just… went about it wrong.  And I understand the things you said when you were akumatized.  It’s  _okay_.”

He sighed, glancing back down at the doll on the bed.  “This is still new to me,” he murmured.  “I switched schools, so I’m still new to so many of you, too.  And… it hurts, sometimes.  I feel like I’m at a disadvantage.  I hate that Nathaniel has seen me at my worst, but I never saw that from him.”

“Marc, you  _have_ seen Nath at his worst, though,” she said, smiling wryly.  “Getting angry, ripping your notebook—that was him as his worst.  Not when he was akumatized.  Just as when you were akumatized, that wasn’t really your worst.  It was Papillon.”  Marc hesitantly met her gaze again, looking at her with uncertainty.  “So really, if anything, Nath’s the one at a disadvantage, as you said.”

Marc considered her words, turning them over in his mind as she reached down for the cocoa, pressing a mug into his hands.  “You think?”

“I do,” she told him firmly before taking a sip of her own drink.

“Thanks, Marinette,” he said, smiling slightly at her.

“Of course!” She folded her legs up, sitting criss-cross as she shifted her mug to one hand, pulling her sketchbook in front of her.  “Now, I  _have to_ show you this design.  I was thinking of you when I was drawing it—I was pulling from typical masculine and feminine designs while not making it strictly either.  And then it just made sense with all the colors…”  She grinned at him as she found the page, handing him the book.  “ _Please_ tell me that if I make it, you’d model it for me.”

Marc’s eyes widened when he looked at the sketches.  “ _I_ inspired this?” he asked.  She nodded.  “This—this is gorgeous.  I can see the sense of movement, the way it just flows… and the colors are beautiful.  You’re amazing, Marinette…”

She beamed at his words, eyes shining brightly.  “I’ll have to take your measurements.  Then I’ll start looking at fabrics.”

“You’re sure you want me to wear something like this for you?”

“I couldn’t imagine anyone better,” she told him.  “Alya keeps saying I need to have a website where I share my designs, and if I share this one, it  _has_ to be you wearing it.”

“If you’re sure,” he said slowly, “then of course I will.”

“Great!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly.  “I hope you know that means more sleepovers will be involved, so I can make sure everything is fitted just right.  And then Alya will probably be the best one to take the photos… We can get Juleka to do some really stunning make-up, too!”

Marc laughed, unable to stop his smile—the girl’s excitement was really contagious.  He felt a warmth spreading through him, feeling indisputably happy that he’d accepted her invitation for the sleepover in the first place.  “Of course,” he agreed, grinning at her.  “It sounds like a plan.”


End file.
